


Like Father Like Son

by Rori_Teagan



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rori_Teagan/pseuds/Rori_Teagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 414 - pre L.A. Brian and Justin spend some quality time with Gus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father Like Son

_Future Fic, Post 414_

All was not well, in Muncherville. It wasn’t a happy place to be these days. No more land of milk and honey tended to by Amazon queens draped in flannel. No more young oil-slicked nubile princesses skipping through fields of dandelions. No more whatever-the-hell other lesbianic depraved shit Munchers did when luxuriating in domestic bliss. In fact, No More Localization. Muncherville was now more of a collection of mini muncher-villas, prime property auctioned off and subsidized into tiny ultra-efficient pristine condos with all the warmth of a fully functional self-conditioned suburban fortress. 

The Mayor of Muncherville was not pleased, which was why on this day of all days (the sun bright and warm outdoors, the flora and fauna population out populating) he was-- 

Oh fucking hell. 

“Could you _please_ stop poisoning my son’s mind with that 2-d feminazi mighty dyke shit? It’s bad enough he gets it at home. He’s gonna end up straight.” 

Justin looked up from the television from his position beside the four year old in question, blurs of red, green, and yellow streaking behind him. “Don’t blame me; your son is the one who wanted to watch it. Tell him, Gus.” 

“The powerpuff girls are cool, Daddy,” Gus complied distractedly. His attention was firmly focused on the cartoon, primary color girls destroying bad guys with fists and pink hearts. Christ. Brian’s only hope was that he’d be tired of a life of all girls all the time by puberty, otherwise there went another to the hetero masses.

Of course…what’s gayer than a little boy who wants to grow up to be a powerpuff girl? 

Hmm. 

Mind set more at ease, Brian dropped his suit jacket on the couch and loosened his tie. “So what’s Gus doing here today? Where’s Linds?”

Justin rose from the floor and swooped up the discarded clothing, then leaned up and planted a brief kiss on Brian’s lips. He was such the perfect little housewife these days. And if it wasn’t for the fact that those words put together and said in conjunction with the implication of domestic tranquility involving one self-affirmed bachelor (i.e. Brian himself) was frankly a bone-chilling thought, he’d tease the blond about that. 

“With M-e-l,” Justin said, all espionage like. It was cu—amusing. “They’re finishing up s-p-l-i-t-t-i-n-g their things and didn’t want you know w-h-o to be witness to it. They didn’t think it would be healthy for h-i-m to overhear. I volunteered to pick him up from school, instead of sending him over to the pre-k class. No need to make him stay longer than he has to when this is one of the only times in his life he’ll get to enjoy half day classes. ” 

Ah. That’s right. Lindsay was getting off her ass and moving her shit out today – finally. 

It was ironic really; Lindsay moving out at the same time Justin moved in. 

Things were bad when _Brian’s_ relationship was the comfortably stable and emotionally healthy one. 

Alright, fine, yes, relationship. He’s in a relationship. Shut up. 

Gus tilted his head back to stare at them upside down. “I know you’re talking about my mommies, Jussin. You can stop spelling it out. I’m not gonna cry. Anyway, M-e-l is for Mommy Mel, everyone knows that.” Righting himself, Gus turned back to Banshee or Bubble-wrap or whatever the hell the yellow flying wunder-dyke was called, once again entranced. 

Justin shook his head and laughed, his hair flipped around his ears with the motion (it’d finally gained some length and abandoned the ‘military buzz cut a la closeted teenage pop icon’ look which was disturbingly hot). “Your kid’s a genius,” he said, wrapping his arms around Brian’s waist. 

“You expected any different?” Brian smirked down at him and allowed the embrace. “He comes from good stock.” 

 

***+++***

“Gus, don’t play with it, eat it.” Jesus, he sounded like his mother. Next he’d be ranting about the starving orphans in poplar country of choice for which Jesus gave his life and how selfish undeserving boys made the sacrifice in vain. 

Okay…that’s fucking creepy. No more channeling Joanie.

Gus ignored his father and examined the sandwich suspiciously. He peeled one of the squares open with a careful deliberation that could be attributed to either a hesitance to confirm his disgust or…yeah, by the expression on his face, that was pretty much it. 

“Is this peanut butter, Daddy?” If he looked around, Brian knew he’d see Justin quietly cracking up behind him. Gus’ tone was so disgusted and accusing, Brian was almost afraid to answer him. 

“Peanut butter. Butter from peanuts. It appears so, counselor.”

Suspicions confirmed and repulsion validated, Gus shoved the plate away from him. “I can’t eat this,” the preschooler pronounced with a finality that could only be attributed to the Kinney gene, “I’m ‘lergic.”

“No you’re not,” Brian told Gus with the same finality. 

Gus ignored that too. “Yes, I am.”

See? This was why he ate lunch at the office. Fucking Justin and his stupid quality time suggestions. My cooking is a lot healthier and low cal than fast food, he said. What’s the point of being your own boss if you’re too stressed out and ill to enjoy it, he said. With our schedules we hardly see each other anymore, he said. I’d like to spend time with you in _our_ new place together, before I move to L.A., he said. If you come home for lunch, I’ll blow you and let you tie me up, he said. 

Ha! False advertising manipulative little twat. 

 

Brian took a minute to wrack his brain. Okay, so he hadn’t been there for the kid through every single little tiny detailed minute of his life. He might not know the name of his pediatrician, or which muppet from sesame street was the new imaginary best friend (did kids still have those?), or even if he had gotten over his seriously disturbing affinity for shoving everything in his mouth first and asking what it was later. But, come on, he’d know if his own kid was allergic to peanut butter! 

Which he wasn’t. 

Hmm….

Maybe.

“You are _not_.” 

“Am too, Daddy. Really bad ‘lergic.” Gus emphasized his point by coughing twice. Fakely. “See?”

“First of all, that proves nothing. Second, Gus, you are _not_ allergic to peanut butter.” 

“I _so_ are. Jussin, tell him.” 

The blonde in question cleared his throat.

“Jussin, tell him,” Gus repeated sweetly, and the kid was four he didn’t know what facetiousness _meant_ but damned if he couldn’t pull it off. “Puh-leeese.” 

“Gus is so allergic to peanut butter,” Justin said dutifully. 

“No he’s—since when?” 

“Oh, since sometime this morning around nine. After he tried to get me to eat slices of apples with peanut butter and I told him I couldn’t because I was allergic to peanut butter.” 

“And he’s coughing, why?” 

“I told him having an allergy means when you eat or touch the thing you’re allergic to, you get sick.” 

“Ahh. Makes perfect sense.” Gus was on his, I want to be like Justin kick. Powerpuff girls, Peanut butter allergies, crayola sessions on the coffee table. Well, there were worse role models. Melanie, for example. But if the kid came home with a taste for alt rock, all bets were off. “It’s really too bad he’s allergic to peanuts, I was planning on taking him out for a sundae after lunch – with hot fudge, and nuts, and whip cream, but…oh well.” Brian stood and grabbed the plate of sandwiches off the table as he spoke.

Gus’ hazel eyes grew three sizes and his little mouth dropped into a perfect ‘o’ in horror. “Daddy, Daddy, wait. It’s okay, I can have that, I’m only ‘lergic to peanut _butter_. Really.”

“I don’t think so, Sonny boy, it’s all or nothing with allergies. If you can’t eat the sandwich you probably can’t handle the sundae.” Brian dramatically waved around the plate of PB&J squares, half minus crusts half with crusts in deference to Gus’ hatred for all things bread end-y – Justin was _such_ a housewife – over the garbage can. 

Gus half leapt out of his chair. “What if I eated it fast? The san’wich. Maybe I won’t be _so very_ ‘lergic.”

“I don’t know…” Brian pretended to think, balancing the plate precariously in one hand, “I suppose that might work.” 

Gus jumped on the opening like it owed him money, tackled it down and whipped its ass. Atta boy. “It’s worth a try. Right, Jussin?” 

“Totally worth a try. I think you should go for it.” 

“Okay, Daddy. Bring it back, I’m gonna try.” 

Plate back in front of the preschooler, Brian watched smugly as his son carefully devoured his PB&J. Who said he couldn’t do this? This shit was easy. 

***+++***

Famous. Last. Words. 

After lunch Brian made good on his promise and took them both out for sundaes, hot fudge, whip cream, peanuts for Gus and substituted granola for Justin. Brian had a frozen yogurt. Vanilla. 

Then they went to the park. 

Which was admittedly a mistake. But Gus was usually such a quiet, well-behaved child. This squealing, writhing, red-cheeked stranger was the anomaly not the rule. Besides it was between giving a four year old hot fudge to eat in the park….or in his loft – with the white walls and white furniture. 

Right. So squealing, writhing, red-cheeked stranger, and park moms either deliberately ignoring the unfolding drama before them in favor of playground-propriety, or stealing glances his way that were suspiciously smug. 

Brian gave an experimental tug on Gus’ waist, wondering if perhaps he could yank hard enough to dislodge the preschooler’s grip without dislocating the boy’s shoulders. Wasn’t worth taking that chance. What else? The tickle method wouldn’t work here and it was hard to get a grip on his little fingers to pry them off while he thrashed around like a landed fish. 

He was _not_ asking Justin to hold him down while he pried his fingers away from the swing. There were some things that he refused to do. He could get his own child to cooperate without bringing out backup. 

“DADDDY!!! LE’ GO!” 

He loved spending time with his son, but he was never so ready for him to go home as he was on days he had to pry him away from the swing set. 

“I’m not ready to goooo!” Gus wrapped both legs around the metal leg of the set to join his clinging arms and screeched at the top of his lungs. 

When did they allow the kid to turn into such a brat? See, this was why he was a part-time dad. 

“Daddy, NOOO! I wanna stay!” Gus wailed like someone was killing him. 

“It’s time to go home, Gus. We made a deal remember? I’d take you to the park if you behaved and left when it was time.” 

The little boy shook his head frantically and Brian had visions of ‘The Exorcist’ twisting her head around 360 and vomiting green fluid. “I’m NOT READY! I don’t LIKE your D-d-d-deal, Dad-dy. I wanna Stay!” 

And he was such a cute baby too. 

“LE’ GOOOOOOOOO!!!” Gus howled. 

Brian let go. “Fine. Stay. Justin, let’s go.” 

Bingo. Silence. Both Justin and Gus had identical expressions of disbelief blinking on their faces. 

“What? Brian you can’t leave him--”

“Justin.” With a final ‘I mean business’ glare, Brian marched to the Corvette. After a few moments, Justin reluctantly trailed along after him, shooting glances behind him at the little boy they were leaving. At least someone still listened to him. 

“He’s going to follow, we just have to convince him we’re serious.” Brian said from the driver’s seat. Justin stood beside the car and looked back at Gus again. It really was a good thing he’d parked so close or he would have had to use a different bluff. From here they could see the child clearly. Gus could see them too, unfortunately. 

The four year old stubbornly crossed his arms and planted himself in the sand. But! He had stopped screaming; parental figure 1, preschooler ... fine. preschooler 3. 

“Brian…I really don’t think Gus is following.” 

“He’s going to.”

“Umm…” Justin shot another look behind him to the little boy who had indeed not moved an inch. “No, I don’t think he is.” 

“He will. Get in the car.” 

“Bri--”

“I’ll leave you too,” Brian threatened. 

Justin smirked snottily and reminded Brian he wasn’t planning on leaving Gus, so there was no ‘too’, but he got in the car anyway, so Brian wasn’t forced to strangle him. 

Six minutes passed as they watched Gus stubbornly sniffling to himself in the sand beside the swing set from the safety of the Corvette. 

Hmm. Brian started the car, revving it for extra emphasis. Gus didn’t even look up. 

“He’ll come looking for us in a minute, he’s four they don’t like being left places,” Brian assured after three more minutes of the same.

“Yeah, but you’re forgetting one thing. He’s also your son. Which means, Lindsay’s one-track optimism and your bull-headedness in an ‘I’ve always gotten my own way when I’m with my Daddy’ package. You’re battling both genetics and four years worth of conditioning. Plus, he can totally tell you’re not actually going anywhere.” 

They watched Gus kick at a red pail, wrap one arm casually around the metal leg of the swing set and lean his head against it, with apparently no intention of ever moving from his spot ever again.

“Fuck.” 

Justin smiled up at him as Brian climbed back out. Smugly. Sunshine bright. “I’ll keep the a/c running, shall I?” 

“Up yours, Justin.” 

“Ooo, baby, you say the sweetest things.” 

Brian flipped him off and marched back towards his stubborn child. 

A second later screams could be heard. “DADDDDY!!! NOOOOOOOO!” 

***+++***

“I change my mind. He can learn about being a man from Mel.” 

Justin chuckled to himself, making his stomach and chest move in stuttered waves and sending a shiver up Brian’s body where they were pressed chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to naked thigh. “You’re probably right, Brian. I always said she had the bigger set of-- Ow!”

Brian grinned. Justin had the perfect ass for slapping. Maybe later they’d play Lord of the Manor and he’d spank him. 

“No blasphemy or character assassination please, it’s been a long enough day as it is.”

Justin hummed softly in response and wiggled, just enough to remind their bodies of the pleasure that could be had – again, and again -- but not enough to incite another bout of sex. 

Brian relaxed into the bed, sinking deep into the comfort of its soft embrace, Justin curled up on top of him, head buried in the crook of Brian’s neck. His warm, soft, comfortable, always loyal bed; and his warm, soft, comfortable, always loyal partner. This was great. This was good. He deserved this. 

After the cop incident – where one of the park-moms alerted the police that two males were trying to lure a screaming four-year-old into their car; after the cop left and Brian had finally unclenched Gus’ stubborn little fingers from the swing-set while Gus screamed his dramatic little head off; after Gus had eventually stopped screaming and subsided into violent sobs instead; after the vomiting in the car all over Brian’s six hundred dollar suit when sobs turned into nausea; after Gus was cleaned up (and the Corvette was hosed and aired out, and Brian was stripped and hosed off) and Gus fell asleep in Justin’s arms and then was promptly startled awake and into more tears; after Lindsay bitched Brian out for having the preschooler sitting on Justin’s lap while they drove because the Corvette didn’t have a backseat and then startled Gus awake; after she broke down in tears because what kind of mother made their own child cry – but really because Melanie wanted to sell the house and was talking about moving to Florida to be closer to her parents, and what kind of mother just abandons her son when shit gets hard? After calming Lindsay down, making an impromptu trip to Smelly Melly’s and bitching her out then guiltily comforting her when _she_ burst into tears which made Jenny Rebecca burst into tears; after everyone finally settled down and Justin took the baby outside while Brian and Melanie talked and Mel admitted she only said it because she wanted to hurt Lindsay and really, Lindsay didn‘t even seem to _care_. 

After all that, he took the rest of the day off, demanded Justin do the same, and they fucked themselves silly. 

He was a fucking _saint_ for putting up with all that bullshit and only raising his voice twice. 

“So,” Justin spoke softly against his neck, casually, “regret any other changes you’ve instigated since the infamous cycle-a-thon?”

Why, the fishing little vixen. What a question to ask. Only his state of nearly total relaxation kept him from laughing inappropriately. Justin thought he was so clever. 

Did he regret any of his decisions since returning from the cross-country bike ride from hell? What was to regret?

More time with Gus, asking Justin to move in with him, getting rid of the blue lights – and he still wondered if Justin had figured out the symbolism of that little metaphor, blue lights in substitution for the wilder aspects of his life. It’d be amusing when the blonde finally did figure it out; he was looking forward to the stunned disbelief. 

Did he regret any of it? Not a one. 

Of course, that’s not what Justin was asking. Nor was it the subject he was so carefully winding himself up to. 

Did he think Brian wouldn’t know? The playa can not be played, Sunshine. The master can not be mastered. The joker can not be joked. 

“Hmmm,” Brian pretended to think. “No. The blue lights were so last year.” 

“Oh.” The disappointment in the blonde’s voice was nearly palatable. “Well…anything else?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like…asking me to move in? I mean, especially since I’m going to L.A. pretty soon.” 

Brian let his fingers card through Justin’s hair, eyes closed and breath even. Here it comes. _The_ conversation. He’d been waiting for this for more than a week now, about fucking time. “Well,” he mulled over, “Gus is going to miss having his favorite babysitter at his beck at call.” 

“I’ll miss being in his servitude.” 

“Of course you will, for he is a benevolent overlord. He really adores you, you know? I didn’t realize how much until he started visiting more frequently.” For some inexplicable reason his voice was getting hoarse. Brian opened his eyes and cleared his throat, squeezing Justin a little closer, and looked up into serious blue eyes as the blonde shifted and hovered over him. 

“He just wants to be like his daddy,” Justin said, the small wistful smile on his lips attesting to his honest belief of that. The insufferable little shit even made modesty look hot. 

“Hey, I resent that implication. I do not adore you.” 

“You worship the ground I walk on,” Justin teased.

“Blatant exaggeration.” 

“You looove me,” Justin sing-songed, “you want to woooorship me.” 

“I find you tolerable,” Brian denied in a fake huff. 

“You want to carry my babies.” 

Through surprised laughter, Brian attempted to breathe without choking at the same time. “Even if that was remotely possible, I think you’re forgetting who’s the bottom, Sunshine. Brian Kinney fucks, he doesn’t get fucked.”

Justin’s eyes sparkled with mischievous glee. “Really? That’s not what Brian Kinney’s ass was saying the other night.” 

“Well, see, you can’t believe that. It lies.” 

“Really.” 

“Yup. Compulsively.” 

Justin lowered himself back down and slid his mouth onto Brian’s. Brian opened his own under the moist heat of his lover and they kissed for awhile. 

Finally they parted, warm and content. Justin snuffled his way back into the crook of Brian’s neck and just breathed there for awhile. Brian found he didn’t mind. He’d been waiting for over a week for the topic to assert itself, for Justin to tell him the new decision he didn’t know Brian knew. He could wait a little longer, the only person he knew who was worse at keeping a secret than the blonde was Michael. He’d crack eventually. 

In fact, he’d probably crack right about….

“Brian? What if …what if I didn’t move to L.A.? No. I mean, I’m not moving to L.A. I’ve changed my mind.” 

Did he know his blonde, or did know his blonde? 

“Oh? That’s probably a good idea. All that Californian sun, you’d burn far too easily. And who the fuck wants to screw a lobster?” 

Justin rose up again, eyes wide, brow crinkled, lips parted slightly. Aww the boy was flummoxed. Brian grinned at him sweetly, and yanked him back down so they could kiss for a little longer. 

He could understand Justin’s surprise…normally Brian would be freaking out about now over his little revelation. There were so many reasons passing up L.A. was possibly the worst decision Justin had ever made in his life bar none – a big one being, eventually he’d regret passing up the opportunity and resent Brian by proxy. But then a week ago Mikey had called to talk to Justin about it and Brian had accidentally overheard – eavesdropped on — the conversation and realized there were many more reasons why he’d regret going. As long as Justin had valid reasons, who was he to complain? 

_Yeah, about that… I’ve changed my mind. I called Brett a few days ago and told him; he was disappointed but he understood. Yeah, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I told him yes. I was feeling cocky and hung-over, to be honest._

_No this decision isn’t all about him. It’s for me too. Mostly for me. Hollywood isn’t something I want, living that lifestyle out there. I mean…It gets boring here, there its just more flash, faster, and twice as dangerous. It was fun to visit, and I’d like to go back sometime, but I don’t want it twenty-four/seven. I don’t want to be that person._

_No, it’s not that. Michael, come on, do you know what an assistant assistant art director is? A glorified gopher, the go-to boy. The closest I’ll get to creative input is determining the appropriate coffee to creamer ratio. I mean, if they really were interested in allowing us to maintain creative control then they’d ask you to move out there, you’re the writer, I’m just the illustrator._

_You know that, and I know that, Michael, but in their eyes all I contribute is the art. I’ll be more effective lobbying our interests if I don’t also work for them. Besides, I can still make the same contacts I would have made there. Half the battle is knowing which names should be noticing you and having a product that will attract their attention. I already – We already have that without even trying._

_I am. I’m perfectly sure. I…I’m not where I thought I’d be, Michael. I had my entire life planned out before I reached fifth grade. And not the plan my parents wanted for me, but I knew where I wanted to be. So far it’s not going the way it was supposed to. There’ve been so many distractions…Hollywood’s another one. And I know I’m young, but the years pass fast and I don’t want to have to look back and realize I’m not the person I wanted to be._

_Mmm, no. Brian’s not a distraction, he’s always been part of the plan. Michael, don’t tell Brian I changed my mind yet, okay? I have to work my way up to it. I don’t want him thinking this is because of him and have to go through his martyred saint routine again where he shoves me out of his life so fast the vertigo gives him time to escape without chance for me to protest._

“What? That’s it? You’re not going to try to convince me to go? You’re not going to say how much this opportunity will mean to my career?” Justin fired when Brian released his compliant lower lip with a final lick.

“Fuck no. Why should I? You’re a big boy, you can make your own decisions. Besides, it’s not like I’ll mind you being around more often.” He thought about that and added, “particularly.” 

“Oh.” Justin slid to Brian’s side, one arm wrapped around Brian’s stomach. “That’s kind of…creepy actually. Where the hell is the real Brian Kinney? The one who would have castrated me for even suggesting passing up L.A. then packed my bags and dragged me to the airport by my hair?” 

“He’s busy being grateful for the chance to not regret any of his recent decisions. I know, it’s fucking disturbing.” 

Justin began laughing, mostly in relief Brian imagined, in soft little chuckles that grew to full-body quakes. Brian closed his eyes to the sound and allowed himself to quietly drift off, a small smile on his lips. It really was disturbing, but the thing was…he didn’t regret that either. 

~~Le Fin~~


End file.
